Iron Fic: A Broken Promise
by The Chairman
Summary: Contestants were given 24 hours to write 1500 words using A Broken Promise as the secret ingredient.
1. Promises

**Promises**

For two young men who'd made a name for themselves as life's own comic relief, seeing their younger brother and sister laid up in hospital was sobering, to say the least. It had been strange enough to be back at Hogwarts; rather like an ill-advised encore after such a brilliant final number, but being in the hospital wing, with their 16 year old brother and 14 year old sister recovering from what were essentially battle wounds, was surreal.

"We must assume, dear brother, that this is war," Fred Weasley remarked to his twin, George, in hushed tones as they milled about the corridors after seeing Ron and Ginny.

"Quite," George replied. "To arms, then?"

"It would only seem natural."

"Fitting."

"Appropriate."

"And an all-around good show on our part, I suppose, given our namesakes."

Fred and George thought about their Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon a moment. Fierce warriors, the both of them; the kind of men they could look up to, and the kind of men who made their mother proud. They had battled together and fallen together, and as the twins looked up from their reverie, they chorused the two words that captured the solemnity of their decision to take up their wands against the forces of dark:

"Bagsy Dohlov!"

Two weeks later, Fred and George found themselves at Headquarters having just attended their first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix as members, rather than Extendable Ear-aided eavesdroppers. It was an uneventful meeting by Order standards, but the mood was tense, their fellow members were on edge, and Dumbledore was direct and no-nonsense. If they hadn't previously understood that "War" was not a euphemism and "killed" was not an exaggeration, they did at that point.

George pulled Fred aside from the post-meeting refreshments. His insides were in knots, and for the first time in his life, he was honestly afraid. He could neither laugh nor joke his way out of this, and it was a dreadfully uncomfortable feeling.

"Ho there, brother-of-mine. Quite the ponderous palaver, wouldn't you say?"

"Quite, dear brother," Fred replied.

"It has become increasingly clear to me that we might not make it out of these bellicose times alive. It would truly be a shame for the world to be deprived of our wondrous pranks and jinxes simply because we have shuffled off this mortal coil."

"Bought the farm"

"Ended our Earthly career"

"Joined the choir celestial"

"Gone past our sell-by date"

"Been stamped 'Return to Sender'"

"Yes, yes. Snuffed it. Died," George ended. "But the world should not suffer the ignominy of life without Wheezes. Should I cross over and you go on, dear brother. I want you to see our dream through. I want you to promise me that you will provide this poor, benighted world with the best Wheezes anyone has ever seen. Better even than Zonkos could dream up in their most fevered dreams."

"Zonkos. Ha! Amateurs"

"Hucksters"

"Charlatans"

"Manufacturers without merit"

"I shall, dear brother," Fred replied. "This I promise you." Fred then paused for a moment, and contemplated the scenario George illustrated. He imagined their workbench with only his cauldron bubbling and his wand waving. Fred could feel at that moment the palpable silence of a world without his twin. Tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes, which left both he and George in a stunned silence.

"My dear, dear brother," George said, wrapping Fred up in his arms to comfort him. George wanted to tell him that none of that would happen, that there would never be a time where the two of them were separated so permanently. But he loved and respected his brother too much to placate him with such empty platitudes. Rather, he simply held Fred for a moment, and placed a kiss on his brother's forehead.

"Should I go before you, dear brother," Fred said, after he'd composed himself, "whether in this war or 90 years hence, there's something you need to do for me, as well."

"Name it, and it shall be done."

"Take care of Angie. She means the world to me."

"Of course, brother. I promise."

The next two years were the shortest, happiest, scariest and most thrilling in Gred and Forge's lives. Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes opened to acclaim and profit, surpassing their wildest hopes. The war waxed and waned, they were assigned occasional intelligence-gathering missions, and always came out unscathed and unseen. They fought admirably in the Battle of the Seven Potters, and Fred had never been more scared than when George returned minus one ear. They buoyed the spirits of the Light through Potterwatch, and on May Day 1998, when the call came in that Voldemort was attacking Hogwarts, there was not a moment of either hesitation or fear between them. Then Percy told a joke, there was an explosion, and George's world went tumbling down about him.

Angelina clung to George, and George to Angelina for support nearly immediately. She wrapped her arms around him as he and his extended family stood over Fred's strangely lifeless body. She stood with him at Fred's funeral, holding his hand, and George was grateful for the feel of it – feeling anything had become no small effort on his part. Angelina offered her wand in the reconstruction of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and stood next to Ron and Verity as George faked his way through a bravado and humor-peppered grand re-opening speech. She pulled George out of the pubs at night and floated him up to his flat above the store when he was particularly legless. On his few sober nights, or when the grief became too much for one or the other or (usually) both of them, they gave each other their bodies for comfort. George, for his part, chose to ignore his dead brother's name when it was called out in the throes of passion, rationalizing that since Fred's picture on his nightstand was waving to them at the time, there was some humor there.

A wedding was hastily planned two years later, after a trip to St. Mungo's. Three weeks after the hospital visit, (as Molly didn't think it appropriate to have a wedding with a visibly pregnant bride) in the orchard only a few hundred yards from where Fred was buried, George and Angelina Weasley were married in a small, quiet ceremony, surrounded by family and a few friends. His brother Ron and Lee Jordan stood up for George, while Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell stood up for the bride. Seven months after that, George and Angelina had Fred Weasley, II in their lives.

The birth of his son brought an end to the pub-crawling for George. And for a while, Angelina appreciated this. A drunk George could never have woken up at 3 to feed Fred. A drunk George would mean she could never have a night out with the girls. But the change in their relationship was noticeable almost as soon as a routine around the baby was formed. A sober George felt years of grief and pain that he'd been anaesthetizing himself against all at once. And when he reached out for Angelina more often, to bury himself in physical comfort, he was rebuffed more often than not. Because an Angelina with a Fred has precious little need or time for a George, drunk or sober. George, however, would get his comfort somewhere.

Verity Murton had had a crush on the Misters Weasley since she began work at WWW as a 16-year-old squib. There weren't many opportunities available for her in the Wizarding world, and when the Weasleys hired her, they had rescued her from a miserable existence, and allowed her to be a member of, in small part, a wondrous world that her Pureblood parents had made clear was closed to her because of her lack of magic. They were brash, self-confident to the point of cockiness, and simply adorable in their own gangly ginger sort of way. The Order had provided a safehouse for her (along with those horrible Muggle relations of Harry Potter) during the low point of the war, and the Weasley Clan had adopted her as one of their own shortly afterwards. All of this cemented the image in her mind of Fred and George Weasley in shining armor on a white horse picking her up and carrying her away. So one day, when she and a particularly emotionally needy George were packing Owl orders, sharing memories of Fred (I), and George leaned over to kiss her, she didn't stop him. And she floated home that evening with a silly grin plastered to her face.

It was just this once, they said. Then it was just until Roxanne was born. Then they tried to stop half a dozen times over the next decade. Verity was under no illusions that their relationship was anything more than what it was. But she also knew George needed her, and she needed that. There were no presents, no fancy dinners, just sweaty, grasping, utilitarian sex in the owl order warehouse.

Then, on September 2nd 2014, the day after Roxanne sent a note saying how happy she was to have been sorted Gryffindor, George came home to find a different note in place of Angelina's belongings.

"I know about Verity, but I don't blame you," the note began, and George crumpled it into a ball and collapsed on the sofa. He opened it again and read further. The kids would be staying with him, as Angelina couldn't bear to tear them apart from their cousins. They'd sit down for a conversation with them around Hallowe'en, and things would be as cordial and painless as they could manage.

"You're gone. You're all gone," it continued. "First Fred, then you, now the kids. I can't keep living like this. I can't lose anymore."

George pulled a bottle of Firewhiskey from the cupboard, uncorked it and drank it down. The burn in his esophagus and ear did nothing but magnify the guilt and shame he was feeling. Pictures of his brother around the sitting room waved at him mockingly, accusingly. Nearly unconscious, he apparated to the Burrow, minus his left eyebrow, and stumbled to his brother's grave.

"Hello, dear brother of mine," he slurred.

His response was the silence of the Devon night air. George fell to his knees in front of the headstone.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "I'm so sorry."


	2. Untitled

Today the world outside was sunny and lovely. It might have been cloudy and rainy; it didn't really matter. They were prisoners in this house. It was a comfortable enough cottage, and the garden was lovely, but when you aren't able to leave your own garden, even the sweetest of homes becomes cramped and uncomfortable.

Lily ducked as the cat meowed and jumped to a shelf. James quickly swished and flicked a lamp back into place. Harry shrieked with delight and turned his toy broom down the hall, where there was nothing dangerous. The cat, satisfied that she was in a safe place, started a bath. Living in a house with one of _those_ creatures was dirty, dangerous work.

Lily looked up at her husband balefully. "Are you absolutely sure?"

James smiled and walked down the hall. "Woah, there, little wizard!" After a few minutes, he walked back in. "I turned him down the other hall. He'll be back through in a minute. Sure about what?"

"Us, the prophecy, the house, Harry... Are you sure we're safe?"

"Of course I'm sure. We're as safe as can be here."

"I just feel so exposed. The house is perfectly visible. Bathilda had no problem whatsoever finding us."

"Pete told her how to get here. She said she never would have known it was here if it wasn't for him."

"I'm not sure I believe you or anyone else about this. I can see every person who passes our window. They must be able to see us too."

James laughed. "Sometimes you can still be such a Muggle. No, it only seems that way. The Fidelious Charm is protecting us. A person could be looking in the window and still have no idea that we're here."

"It's really and truly safe?"

"Perfectly. The Fidelius Charm is one of the most powerful bits of magic there is."

"But why Wormy? Why not Sirius? Or even Remus? Remus would make me feel much more comfortable."

"You know about Remus. It's not that we can't trust him, but his condition makes him vulnerable. We're concerned that being a werewolf will be his downfall."

"Just because of his transformations? That's not like you, James."

"It's a legitimate concern."

"That somehow someone will get him to talk? When he's not even in a human form? I still don't get that."

"No, it's that while he's transforming, or after he's changed back... You've never seen him then, Lily. He's in a weakened state. It's just barely possible that someone could get to him."

Harry zoomed past again on his broom. "Whee!" The cat hissed from her perch. When the baby was back in the hallway, she resumed licking her back.

"I'm not convinced that Remus would ever betray us, James."

"Is this Lily speaking, or the crush you used to have on him?"

"James! We just studied Ancient Runes together. The rest of you couldn't be arsed, after all."

"It's not as though you're using dead languages here in this cottage."

That was part of the problem. They weren't doing much of anything in the cottage. Fifth year and the conversations they'd had with Professor McGonagall seemed centuries in the past instead of just a few years. Lily had explored several possible professions; none was an option at this time.

"We've decided that it's just better with Peter."

Lily sighed. Perhaps they were right about Remus. He would never knowingly, willingly betray them, but perhaps some pressure could be applied. She'd heard about his transformations, but she'd never witnessed one. She only knew that Remus was a weary shell of himself when it was all over.

"Why not Sirius, then? He just seems stronger, and a safer option, than Peter."

"And everyone will assume it's him, because he's the obvious choice. This way, if they torture him, he won't be able to say anything."

Lily shuddered. She didn't want to think of any of their friends being tortured, especially not for their sake. Harry toddled in and climbed into her lap. She cuddled him close and kissed his forehead. Actually, she could think of every one of their friends being tortured, for Harry's sake. Anything would be bearable, as long as he was protected.

There was one person who didn't seem vulnerable or likely to be captured or tortured. "Why not Dumbledore, then? Didn't he offer?"

"Dumbledore? I don't quite trust him. He always seems to have some ulterior motive. Why didn't he tell us what the prophecy actually said?"

"He said something about prophecies being tricky, that we might inadvertently cause something if we know too much."

"… or know too little. We've been all over this, Lils, and I don't quite trust him. We've got all our information and planning centered in one person. We don't want to add our own safety and security to that."

"But still, why don't we have someone else as our Secret Keeper? Alice told me that Severus told the Order that one of our friends isn't trustworthy."

"Pffh... Snape."

"He told the Order things about us that we've never mentioned. They had to come from someone who knew us."

"And when asked, he couldn't tell us who it was. He's such a sneak he probably found it out those things by spying on us."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because he's always been lurking around."

It had been a bone of contention since their first ride on the Hogwarts Express. Lily decided to let it go. "Well... Dumbledore trusts Sev. He says that he's really trying to help us, and the order."

"That's another reason I don't quite trust Dumbledore. It's obvious that Snivellus is a Death Eater. When I think about it, I worry that Dumbledore is turning a bit dotty."

James came close to put his hand on the baby's head and kiss it. Lily took his hand and looked at him seriously. "Peter Pettigrew is really and truly the best choice, James? I fear what they'll do to him. He's never seemed quite... brave enough."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her reassuringly. "There's no one better. He actually suggested it himself. He admitted that he worried that he might be attacked, but knew that since they were likely to go after Sirius first, at least he might have some forewarning if something was up. There were tears in his eyes as he swore to me that our safety was the most important thing in the world to him. He promised that he'd take our secret to the grave. He's absolutely true to us, Lily."

"That doesn't sound like the Wormy I know, who's scared of everything, sometimes even his own wand."

"Yes, he's scared of his other wand, too. You should have seen the first time he-"

"James, be serious. I'm still very worried about this."

He helped her stand up, and they walked up the stairs together. James nodded toward Harry with his head. "Is he asleep for the night, then?"

"I think so."

James moved right behind Lily and put an arm around her waist.

"Stop, James. I need to put him down and set his room to rights."

Harry needed a new diaper, but was so tired that he didn't wake as Lily changed him and put him in his sleeper. She wasn't quite ready to let the topic of conversation go.

"Frank, Kingsley, Mad-Eye?"

"We didn't want to involve anyone who works at the Ministry. They have some odd rules about mandated reporting and that sort of thing. We didn't think it would apply to us, but we didn't want to chance it."

He slipped his arm around her again and started kissing the back of her neck.

"James, quit it!"

"Come on, Lils, the little guy is asleep, and we're all alone."

She patted Harry's behind and relaxed a little. It was true. They were alone. They were very much alone. It was just them and the house. Them, the house, and the prophecy, that is. Actually, it was them, the house, the prophecy, and nothing but Wormtail to protect them.

Suddenly, she whirled around and faced James. Working the fingers of both her hands between the fingers of his, she pushed him to arms' length and caught his eye. "Are you really willing to stake our son's life on this decision? Because that mad man wants to kill him. To_kill_ him, James; do you really know what that means?"

"Of course I know what that means, Lily. How many of our friends have we already lost?" James clasped her hands that were now entwined with his and kissed each of them. With tears in his eyes, he said, "I swear to you on my parents' graves, on the graves of all our friends, on the lives of all whom I hold dear, on my life, your life, even Harry's life. I promise you that I will protect you to my last breath. Our friends will protect us to the last breath. Nothing and no one will be able to penetrate the protective charms we've laid. Nothing and no one will harm our baby. He's perfectly safe, and you're perfectly safe too, Lily."


End file.
